Robert W. Service Quotes

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

After fifty don’t go to a funeral if you can avoid it. It’s bad enough to go to your own when times comes.

But I want to state, and my words are straight, and I'll bet my poke they're true,
That one of you is a hound of hell . . . and that one is Dan McGrew.

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

Wisdom is peace, peace wisdom. Both are born of a humble heart and a nourished gratitude.

Marriage is a bachelor’s punishment for his sins

Nature is the nest professor in the end.

Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,
And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;
With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,
A helf-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green, yellow, and red, the North Lights swept in bars? —
Then you've a hunch what the music meant . . . hunger and night and the stars.

Some praise the Lord for Light,
The living spark;
I thank God for the Night
The healing dark.

I count each day a little life, With birth and death complete;
I cloister it from care and strife And keep it sane and sweet.

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:
"Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane --
Strong for the red rage of battle; sane for I harry them sore;
Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core

Mud is mankind in the moulding,
Heaven's mystery unfolding

Just have one more try - it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.

It's coming soon and soon, mother, it's nearer every day,
When only men who work and sweat will have a word to say;
When all who earn their honest bread in every land and soil
Will claim the Brotherhood of Man, the Comradeship of Toil;
When we, the Workers, all demand: `What are we fighting for?' . . .
Then, then we'll end that stupid crime, that devil's madness -- War.